


The Perfect Drug

by LaChouette



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Choking, Consensual Violence, Dom/sub, M/M, mild kink-shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaChouette/pseuds/LaChouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach didn’t know how he got like this, he didn’t know what was broken in his brain to make him think like this. All he knew was that when he stood there with his fingers gripping Chris’s throat, he wanted nothing more than to dig his nails into his neck, or sink his teeth into the skin, anything to remove those few millimeters between him and the thick, hot blood that was pulsing just under his hand...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Drug

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I think there's a general lack of non-vampire-related bloodplay works and I wanted to fill that void. That being said, this goes a little deep into bloodkink/bloodplay from a Dom POV and may be too much for some readers.
> 
> The title is from "The Perfect Drug" by Nine Inch Nails, which is one of my favorite songs and which I think mirrors the tone and cadence of this piece.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

Zach was keenly aware of his own heartbeat. He stood by his kitchen window and stared at the lights of the dark city while his right hand absent-mindedly swirled the glass tumbler of whiskey he was sipping. His apartment was dark, but the moon was nearly full and it cast a gold rectangle of shadowy light through the window frame. He stood completely still, calm and unmoving, but he couldn’t help but observe each gentle _thump_ of his heart pumping in his chest because the subaural feel of it, like a heavy bass beat, reminded Zach of _him_ , earlier. 

Chris. They were filming today, on the _Enterprise_ set, having another go at Spock and Kirk’s tussle on the bridge. They had practiced it before, gently, more concerned with the choreography than with ensuring that their fight looked realistic. But today, they were in costume, the cameras were rolling, and it was time to put it all together. Zach and Chris shouted their angry lines at each other, got their punches in, and then as the scene progressed Zach quickly found himself with his hand clenched around Chris’s neck and the entire universe slowed down around him. Time halted to a stop, and all Zach was able to perceive were the quickening _thumpthumpthump_ s of Chris’s pulse beating strong through the thick veins in his neck and against the skin of his hand while his fingers tightened against the sensation. It was as if all of Zach’s senses sharpened like a predator in the wild, making him keenly aware of the smell of Chris’s aftershave and sweat, the sight of his flexed biceps and the taut tendons in his neck, the smoothness of the skin over his throat where it touched Zach’s hand. He swore he could even _hear_ Chris’s heart thumping over the tinny crescendo of ringing in his ears.

After what felt like hours but must have only been a few seconds, Chris shattered the spell by bursting out into a ridiculous giggle that startled Zach and made him retract his hand immediately. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Chris panted between fits of laughter. “I’m sorry, I just can’t look at Zach being all serious and tough with those ridiculous ears and eyebrows, it kills me! I’m sorry, guys, I just looked up at Angry Spock and lost it.”

Zoe was trying to cover her own giggles with a hand and JJ rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration behind the cameramen off the side. “It’s fine, it’s fine…” he sighed. “Let’s just try that again, and this time, no laughing!”

Zach spoke up, still standing relatively still in the same spot. “I don’t know, JJ, it’s late. I think it might be better to try this again from the top in the morning, honestly.” He tried to keep his face blank, hoping that everyone would assume he was just tired or maybe annoyed at Chris. When JJ reluctantly agreed with him and sent the cast home for the night, Zach had exhaled a sigh of relief and ducked out quietly to get home undisturbed.

Now, in the dark solace of his empty apartment Zach sipped the whiskey and allowed his mind to drift back to that exquisite moment when he had his hand wrapped around Chris’s throat, thumb pressed above his carotid artery, feeling the rush of hot blood just millimeters under the skin… He swallowed a mouthful from his glass and ran the fingers of his other hand through his messy hair. The whiskey felt thick in his mouth and warmed his throat going down, helping a little to abate his craving, but it wasn’t going to be enough, it was never enough.

Zach didn’t know how he got like this, he didn’t know what was broken in his brain to make him think like this. All he knew was that when he stood there with his fingers gripping Chris’s throat, he wanted nothing more than to dig his nails into his neck, or sink his teeth into the skin, anything to remove those few millimeters between him and the thick, hot blood that was pulsing just under his hand. He wanted to taste it on his lips and feel it slide smoothly down his throat, to _consume_ Chris in essence by swallowing the blood that beats in his veins. He craved it like he imagined a vampire from a movie would, but not for sustenance, obviously, and not for the ambiguous and carefully-worded “release” espoused by others he’d met in the so-called “bloodkink” community who spoke of fulfilling a kink as if it were as routine and mundane a task as getting one’s hair cut. No, he craved blood for the pure, animalistic fucking _ecstasy_ it brought him. 

Blood and sex had been intertwined in Zach’s mind for as long as he could remember thinking about sex at all. In fact, he had become aware of this fetish even before he had even realized he was attracted to men. But unlike his sexuality, this wasn’t something he could ever be “out” with. He learned very early on that his particular proclivities were considered fringe at best, disturbed at worst, and it was something that must be guarded from all but the most discreet partners unless he wanted the public to think he was some kind of psychopath. In truth, however, Zach often contemplated to himself whether that would even be a false accusation. During times of alcohol- and loneliness-induced self-loathing he wondered if perhaps he so frequently found himself taking roles as serial killers, sociopaths, and outsiders because there _was_ something seriously wrong with him and playing those characters allowed that something to express itself.

He tossed back the remnants of his whiskey, relishing the dull burn in his mouth before setting the glass down on the countertop with a _plink_ from the half-melted ice cubes and a sigh from Zach. He had hoped the drink would relax him and help clear Chris from his mind, but it didn’t even come close. 

Zach was startled by the sound of his phone ringing from the table across the room, echoing in his silent apartment, and he hurried to grab it in time. As he picked it up, he caught a glance at the name displayed on the screen and his fingers faltered: _Christopher Pine_. He sighed with exasperation and swiped right to answer.

“Christopher.”

“Zachary.”

“Can I help you with something?”

“I don’t know, _can_ you?”

Zach rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You called _me_ , Chris, get to the point.”

“Right, right, sorry. Hey, so, are you busy right now? You ran off the set before I had a chance to find you. Got plans tonight?”

Zach couldn’t help but be a little excited by the prospect of hanging out with Chris, even if he would have to fight off impure thoughts of him all night. “No, no plans. Did you have something in mind?”

“Not anything too exciting,” Chris replied through the phone. “I just feel a little bad about ruining the scene earlier with my little giggle attack, and I thought if you weren’t doing anything maybe we could practice it a couple times. Get it down so we can breeze right through it on set in the morning and move on. What do you think? I’m in your neighborhood, I can just swing by your place.”

Zach was silent. The reasonable part of his brain knew that meeting Chris alone, at night, in his apartment, to practice a scene full of physical contact was a _terrible_ idea. But the extra _thump!_ his heart made at the notion distracted his sense of reason long enough for his mouth to respond with “Sure, that sounds great.”

“Awesome! See you in fifteen.” Chris said before hanging up.

_Wonderful_ , Zach thought to himself as he retrieved his empty glass from the countertop, grabbed a bottle from the cabinet, and poured himself another stiff drink. His mind was wandering back to earlier and insisting that he remember how it felt to be in such close proximity to Chris’s body. He remembered the sight of his perfect chest rising with heavy breaths, his ridiculously tight Starfleet uniform shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the nearly pornographic look Chris gave him as he grabbed him by the throat, all half-lidded eyes and pouty lips. It was that fucking look, coupled with the feel of his accelerating pulse through his neck, that made Zach want to tear Chris’s clothes off and fuck him right there on the set. He wanted to sink his teeth into those muscular shoulders until he broke the skin and felt the wet sensation of blood welling up into his mouth. 

_Stop it_ , Zach ordered himself. He couldn’t be thinking about Chris like this. Chris was his friend, his _straight_ friend, who would never be into having _ordinary_ sex with him, let alone enact any of the deviant fantasies swirling around in Zach’s head. He busied himself with cleaning up some of the clutter in his kitchen and attached living room, hoping it would provide enough of a distraction that the partial erection he’d been sporting all night would settle down before Chris arrived.

Zach had just finished straightening his apartment when he heard a quick knock at the door, followed by Chris letting himself in. “Knock knock,” he announced. “I think your doorman recognized me. He just let me right up.” Chris was dressed casually in jeans and a light jacket, wearing the thick-framed glasses he brings out when he doesn’t feel like putting in contacts. Zach always found the juxtaposition of his nerdy glasses and his beach-blond Kirk hair amusing. It made him look like a ditzy West Coast surfer who’s been possessed by an Ivy League professor. 

Chris was holding a six-pack of craft beer and as he hung his jacket on a hook by the door, Zach took the beer to place in the fridge, popping the caps off two first. He handed one to Chris and took a swig from the other, eyeing his friend in the process. Chris seemed off, like he was anxious about something. 

“What’s on your mind?” Zach asked as he took a seat on the couch next to him. “You’re not still worried about messing up that scene earlier, are you? Really, it’s no big deal. To be honest, I do look pretty ridiculous with my hair like this and the pointy ears on. I don’t know if I could look at me and keep a straight face either.”

Chris chuckled, looking down at the bottle he was holding with both hands. “And your stupid eyebrows…”

“Hey now,” Zach feigned offense. “Too far!”

“Sorry, man, you know I didn’t mean…” The blond man set his bottle down on the coffee table and turned to face his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You still look good, you know. Even with the hair and the eyebrows. You always look good.”

Zach swallowed hard, finding himself suddenly unable to move, frozen in place by those icy blue eyes. He was acutely aware of the hand on his shoulder and the scant inches between their bodies where they sat on the couch. His eyes broke from Chris’s piercing gaze to trace the line of his strong jaw, rough with five-o’clock shadow, down his neck to the triangle of muscled chest exposed by his v-neck shirt. Zach watched his chest rise sharply with a deep inhale before he flicked his gaze back up to Chris’s wide sapphire eyes. His hand was still touching Zach’s shoulder.

“Zach…” Chris murmured, his voice barely audible, his face growing red as blood filled the capillaries in his cheeks. “I need to tell you something.”

_THUMP.THUMP.THUMP._ Zach’s heart was pounding in his chest and a crescendo of ringing rose in his ears. The silence was deafening as he waited for Chris to speak again, his mind racing through the possibilities of what could happen next.

“I did it on purpose. Ruined the scene...” His voice was just above a whisper now. “I faked the laugh because I had to do _something_ or else…”

Zach shifted his position to lean in closer to Chris, holding the other man’s wide blue gaze with his dark, hungry eyes. He was as close to Chris as he had been earlier on set, and once again he could smell the faint hint of woodsy cologne and hear the tiny, airy sound of his quickening breath. The hand slipped from Zach’s shoulder and he restored their contact by placing his own on Chris’s knee.

“Or else what…?” Zach breathed, mere inches from the other man.

“Or else the entire cast and crew would have seen me come in my pants from how fucking _hot_ it felt to have you choking me.” Chris’s face was even redder now and he looked away from Zach, ashamed. “It was either make you stop or scream for you choke me harder.”

_Thumpthumpthumpthump_. Zach’s mind went blank and for a moment he considered the possibility that this was either a very detailed dream or he had been hit by a bus on his way home from the set and this was his version of heaven. He let the hand on Chris’s knee migrate gradually up to his thigh while he raised his other hand and tentatively, so slowly, placed his fingers around his friend’s throat. His grip was soft, but he stared directly into Chris’s eyes as he increased the pressure and whispered, “You mean like this?”

Chris gasped wordlessly, eyes as wide as saucers behind the frames of his glasses, and Zach could feel his pulse pounding through the thick veins under his fingertips. He tightened his grip a tiny bit more, and inched his other hand even higher up Chris’s thigh just in time to feel his cock swell with blood and grow rock hard in his jeans. A fiery, hungry lust swept over Zach and he no longer cared about the improbability of this situation or its potential future consequences. He was incapable of thinking about anything other than his all-consuming _want_ for Chris and his gorgeous body.

Without relenting the grip on his throat, Zach moved from sitting next to Chris to straddling his lap, grinding his hips into Chris as he smashed their mouths together roughly. Chris relaxed his lips and opened his mouth to Zach, allowing the older man to shove his tongue into his mouth, which tasted vaguely of beer. Zach sucked at his lower lip, taking it between his front teeth and biting maybe a little too hard before letting it go to trace it with his tongue. He loved the feel of Chris’s fast, strong pulse thumping against his fingers and thumb as he pressed them to the hot skin of his neck, like he was literally holding Chris’s life in his hand. If he dug his nails into the skin he could nick a swollen capillary, the pressure of his grip would cause the blood to rise quickly, even from a tiny cut, and run smoothly down over his fingers… Zach imagined it pooling in the indentations of Chris’s clavicle, staining the collar of his t-shirt.

Chris had remained relatively motionless throughout all this, which Zach hadn’t noticed until he felt Chris raise a hand and lightly stroke the length of the forearm Zach was still using to choke him. The touch brought Zach’s attention back to the hand he still had around Chris’s neck and he immediately let it drop, startled, pulling away. He couldn’t help but notice Chris’s face was even redder than before and he was inhaling deep and rapid breaths and Zach was momentarily horrified that he’d almost accidentally suffocated his friend.

“Oh my god, Chris, I didn’t--” Zach started to apologize, concerned, but Chris cut him off by gripping the back of Zach’s head and pulling him down for another rough kiss, this time letting his tongue thrust into Zach’s mouth. When they separated again his lips were wet and swollen and the pupils in his half-lidded eyes were dilated with lust. The tan skin of Chris’s neck bore faint pink imprints where his fingers had been, and even though he knew he should worry about leaving a bruise what with filming and all, seeing the marks he left on Chris was so fucking sexy. He touched his fingers to Chris’s throat again, just to run them over the marks and feel the pounding of his pulse beneath the skin, and Chris inhaled sharply, closing his eyes.

“Fuck, Zach…” Chris moaned with his eyes still closed. But when he opened them, his expression changed and he pushed Zach off his lap, scooting away from him with his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Zach, I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I never wanted you to know about this, I thought I could hide it.” Chris set his glasses on the coffee table and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as though he were physically trying to wipe his mind clean like a whiteboard.

Zach was confused; this was not the reaction he had been expecting from Chris. Nothing that had happened in the past ten minutes was what Zach had been expecting, and he wasn’t sure how to process this situation. Twenty minutes ago he was concerned that he may have to tell Chris the embarrassing truth that he nearly got off on the feel of his fingers around his throat earlier, but now he was fairly certain that Chris just confessed to harboring a similar secret. All this time, while Zach was shamefully hiding his fantasies of grabbing, biting, _taking_ Chris… Chris was thinking of it, too.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Zach asked quietly, leaning into Chris’s side of the couch and placing his hand back on his knee. 

Chris shook his head in frustration, looking away from Zach. “Tell you what, exactly? That I’m a fucking freak? That what I want, what gets me off, makes all my girlfriends want to either psychoanalyze me or leave me? That the only really fulfilling sex I’ve ever had has been with random strangers in the back of fucking BDSM clubs?”

The desperation on Chris’s face was heartbreaking as he turned to look at Zach with blue eyes pleading, begging him for acceptance, or at the very least, understanding. It was an expression Zach was familiar with, as he had worn it himself many times before. 

But right now Zach kept his face blank, giving his mind a moment to process everything.”What is it that you want, exactly?” Zach’s voice was even and clinical, like a researcher interviewing a subject. Chris turned to look at him and Zach noticed his eyes narrow for a split second, suspicious and guarded, reflexively bristling at the question before he seemed to decide that no, Zach wasn’t judging him, wasn’t going to ridicule him for whatever he said next.

With a dejected sigh, Chris stared into his hands clenched in his lap and whispered, “To be controlled, to be dominated… Fuck, I don’t know, it sounds stupid and crazy to just spell it out. I just…” He shifted and turned his wide, imploring eyes on Zach again. “You know how I am, you know how I like things to be a certain way, how when I commit to something, I go all in. I plan everything out, execute it perfectly, give 110% and all that… I guess I’m so used to controlling every aspect of my life that having someone take that control away feels so _liberating_ , you know?”

Zach nodded, adopting what he hoped was an understanding expression because as soon as that last sentence left Chris’s mouth he found his heartbeat quickening and his jeans growing tight. He knew _exactly_ what Chris meant, because it was the perfect inversion of the thoughts that ran through his own mind on a regular basis. 

“But how do you tell someone that?” Chris continued after taking a big swig from the beer bottle still sitting in front of him on the coffee table. “There’s no right way to tell a girl you just started dating ‘I want you to hit me’ or ‘I want you to choke me till I pass out’. Trust me, it doesn’t go over well.” He chuckled nervously.

“So you started picking up girls at BDSM clubs?” Zach was really struggling now to keep his voice even and keep the growing fire of lust in his chest from showing on his face.

Chris shrugged, defeated, his body language saying _fuck it, I’ve gone this far_ … “Girls, guys, whatever. It doesn’t really matter, just anyone who can give me what I want. Or I guess, take what they want.” He smiled a little, looking up from the beer bottle in his hands. “See? Told you I was fucked up.”

Zach felt his dick twitch in his pants and swallowed hard. This really couldn’t have worked out better if he’d planned it. Without saying a word, he grabbed both of their now-empty beer bottles and took them to the kitchen. Returning to the living room a minute later, Zach took a second to stand in the doorway and absorb the scene in front of him. It had to be past midnight now, and the dark rain-splattered windows of his apartment stood in contrast with the bright, yellowish artificial light from the two table lamps on either side of the couch. Chris looked good in this light, but really, if he was being honest, Chris looked good in any light. His bleached blond hair was a tousled mess and five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw, but if anything, the rough edges only made him more attractive. Zach had always fantasized about Chris, about doing unspeakable things to him, but it had always been strictly a fantasy. Until now, that is. Even though he knew that there was a slim chance this could end any way other than horribly, Zach knew that he’d regret it if he didn’t seize the opportunity that all but offered itself to him on his couch just now.

He stepped through the threshold into the living room and left his apprehension behind him. Every nerve in his body was burning with anticipation as he approached the other man, resolute in his intentions and feeling like a wolf staring down at a lamb. “Christopher, if at any point you want this to stop…” Zach straddled Chris on the couch as he had just a short time ago and Chris looked up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.

“If I want _what_ to stop?” Chris whispered, though his quickening breath and heaving chest suggested he already knew the answer.

“If at any point you want this to stop,” Zach repeated, more firmly this time, now inches from the other man’s face. “Just say ‘I’m done’. Do you understand?”

“Did you just give me a fucking _safeword?_ ” 

Zach cut off Chris’s questioning with a rough kiss, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling it to tilt his head back. “I asked, _do you understand?_ ” Zach demanded when their mouths separated. 

“Y-yes,” Chris replied through panting breaths, staring up at Zach like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

That was it for Zach. That whisper of consent pushed him over the proverbial tipping point and he felt himself let go of his reservations and dive head-first into that black part of his mind he always tries so hard to keep hidden. He let it consume him, giving in to it as Chris had given in to him, abandoning his uncertainty and focusing his attention to the beautiful, supplicant body beneath him.

Still gripping his hair, Zach wrenched his head back to expose the long curve of his neck as Chris inhaled sharply. He kissed his mouth again, lingering to bite his lower lip, before burying his face in the place where Chris’s neck joined his left shoulder and breathing in the scent of his sweat and cologne. He kissed him there, running his tongue over Chris’s hot skin, sucking on the area above his clavicle until faint red bruises formed and Chris was making sounds halfway between a moan and a whimper. When Zach closed his lips over Chris’s skin he tasted the slight hint of salt and could feel the gentle yet persistent _thump_ of his quickening pulse and the low vibrations from every sound he uttered. Chris had both arms extended outward along the back of the couch with both fists firmly clenching the cushions and he rolled his hips up into Zach’s crotch reflexively, tantalizingly, every time Zach tightened his grip on his hair or scraped his teeth over his neck. He was into this, that was as obvious as the rock hard bulge in his jeans, but Zach wasn’t sure how long it would last. He wondered how far Chris would let him go before safewording out, and he tried to go slow, but every touch he got away with only served to magnify his hunger for the other man and compel him to go farther.

Zach put his lips to Chris’s neck again, at the spot where it connected with his shoulder, but instead of kissing, licking, teasing, he closed his teeth on the reddened skin and bit down _hard_ until he felt the supple flesh give way and puncture. 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Chris exclaimed, jerking reflexively away from the pain but held in place by the hands gripping him by the hair and by the bicep. Zach ignored his protests and pulled away from his neck to examine the mark he left: two jagged red crescents that showed pinpoints of blood welling up in the indentation left by Zach’s teeth. Chris’s heart was pounding from excitement and adrenaline, the quickened pulse forcing blood through his capillaries and out of the tears in his skin much faster. Zach watched with a lustful fascination as a small drop swelled from the puncture left by one of his incisors, growing until gravity took hold and pulled the drop sluggishly down toward Chris’s chest, leaving a dark streak on his skin. Chris’s eyes were clenched shut, his brow furrowed and his face displaying intense but indecipherable emotion, yet he remained silent. No safeword.

Zach couldn’t take his eyes off the bloody pinpoints blossoming from the wound he left on his friend’s neck, but his fascination with the sight was easily eclipsed by the overwhelming, gnawing _want_ rising in him. Without wasting another second, Zach yanked Chris’s head back again and clamped his mouth around the spot, biting down once more and sucking until he could feel the punctures open further and the taste of Chris’s blood spread into his mouth. 

Chris let out a short, muffled cry at the sudden pain, but the sound was all but drowned out by the ringing in Zach’s ears as he once again felt the entire universe freeze around him, sharpening into a focus in which all of space and time slowed to encompass only this, nothing else but the feel of Chris’s warm body pressed against him tight and taste of his hot, thick blood on Zach’s tongue. It had been so long, so very long since he’d been able to experience this with anyone, but at this moment Zach didn’t care about judgement or repercussions or any of the things that had kept him from expressing his hidden desires in the past; he only cared about how fucking fantastic Chris tasted and how _fucking_ much he wanted him.

Zach ran his tongue over the indentations his teeth left in Chris’s skin and savored the metallic taste of iron in the platelets accumulating on the edges on his broken skin. He closed his mouth and sucked on the wound, bringing more blood to the surface until he was able to feel it welling up on his tongue and filling his mouth with the taste of it: slightly coppery, but rich like merlot and with the thickness of whole milk. At long last, he swallowed a mouthful and the feel of Chris’s blood passing over his tongue, coating the inside of his throat, was almost more than he could take. A shudder of pleasure rippled over Zach’s body and he pulled away from Chris’s neck, releasing his grip on his hair and placing his hands on his waist. “Is this too much?” Zach asked, voice deep and gravelly, like the growl of an animal about to devour his prey. His hair was falling over his forehead and he glared down at Chris with dilated pupils under furrowed brows, breathing hard. “Are you done?”

“No,” Chris replied, voice wavering. He brought his hand up to his neck and winced as he touched the bite there, staring curiously at the smear of blood left on his fingertips. Without a word, he raised those fingertips to Zach’s mouth and traced the matching red that smeared his lips. Zach closed his eyes ecstatically and parted his lips, taking Chris’s wrist to guide his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean, slowly, one at a time. “I’m not even close to done.”

Chris wrapped his arms around Zach and pulled him in for a deep kiss, grinding his hips up into Zach and pressing their bodies together. Zach knew that Chris must taste his blood in his mouth and on his lips, and the thought of it thrilled him, made his heart pound with excitement. He shoved his tongue in and out of Chris’s mouth, occasionally pausing to nip and suck on his plump lower lip. After a while, Chris pulled away tentatively, holding his face inches from Zach’s with their foreheads almost touching. “I can taste it,” Chris whispered, his panting breath warm on Zach’s face. “Your whole mouth tastes like it.”

Zach didn’t speak. This was usually the point at which he was told to stop, when it became just a little too much for the man he was with to taste his own blood in Zach's mouth. They would pull away from a kiss with a look of barely concealed disgust, voice apologetic but eyes judgmental as they cut Zach off with a safeword and left him alone with his self-loathing. 

"I've never had anyone do that to me before," Chris's voice was still so soft, barely above a whisper.

"Draw blood?"

"No, I've... That's been done." Chris leaned back on the couch, putting a few more inches between them as he studied Zach's face with his deep blue eyes. "It's just never been the goal. Usually if I'm bleeding it's because I've been roughed up, beat up, where it's more of an incidental result. The people I find, that I hook up with...I want them to hurt me and they want to cause me pain, and sometimes there's blood. But you..." Chris touched his fingertips to the wound above his collarbone again. "It's the opposite for you."

Again, Zach said nothing, trying to interpret Chris's words and read his face for signs of a reaction. He watched as Chris rubbed the bite mark on his neck. The bleeding had stopped and the punctures had begun to close, but Chris scraped his fingernails over the area with a wince, reopening the punctures and drawing fresh wet blood to the surface as Zach's eyes widened. Chris dabbed his fingertips over the pinpoints of new blood blossoming from his skin and then slowly, delicately, like one might reach out towards a skittish animal, he rubbed a bloody fingertip across Zach's parted lips, coating them in red.

"You like this," Chris murmured as Zach closed his eyes and licked the blood from his lips. "You want to hurt me _because_ of the blood."

"You know what to say if you want this to stop," Zach said, turning away. "Just say the words."

"No." Chris's voice cracked slightly but his face was resolute, determined. "I don’t want to stop. I...I like it, too. I want _more_.”

The faint static sound of rain hitting the windows was the only solid reminder to Zach that this was not a dream, that the world outside of his apartment continued to exist and this was real. The desperate mix of shame and longing that darkened the sapphire eyes staring up at him was real, as was the quick _thumpthumpthump_ of Chris’s adrenaline-soaked heart, pumping the blood that colored his flushed face and swelled in languid blossoms from his broken skin. If his words had been an invitation then his body language was a plea, his arched throat and hard dick beseeching Zach to use him, do to him what both of them wanted but neither of them could ever have: control and the lack thereof, blood and the lack thereof.

As Chris held still save for his panting breaths and rising chest, Zach allowed himself to once again gingerly enclose his lips around the broken skin on Chris’s neck and clean away the swelling blood with his tongue. He traced the tears and indentations slowly, carefully, tasting the iron on the jagged edges and lapping up the smooth thick liquid pouring lazily to the surface. Chris tasted just as Zach had imagined he would: rich like a Kobe filet mignon and warm, not just in temperature but in essence, like how the slow burn of aged whiskey settles deep in your core. He tasted beautiful and the act of swallowing him, consuming him, felt to Zach like a hit of the most perfect drug.

When he pulled his mouth away from Chris’s damaged skin he was captivated by the look on Chris’s face: his eyes were closed, brow furrowed from the obvious pain, but his mouth was open in a silent gasp of pleasure. “You really do like this,” Zach mused, licking Chris’s blood from his lips.

“Yes,” the younger man breathed, opening those beautiful blue eyes to reveal a fiery intensity. “I can’t explain it. It hurts, and I like that, but when you’re sucking on me I can almost _feel_ my blood running out of me, and when you swallow it… It’s like you are literally taking control from me.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Zach’s voice was deep and rusty, heavy with lust and hunger. “Wanted _you_. Fuck, Christopher…I want to tear you apart.”

“Then do it,” Chris whispered meekly. “Do whatever you want to me.”

Without a second more of hesitation Zach pulled Chris’s t-shirt off over his head, followed with his own, tossing both to the side as he stood up and dragged Chris with him to the bedroom around the corner. Before they’d even reached the bed he pulled Chris to him and kissed him fiercely, smashing their bodies together and grinding his hips against the other man’s thigh. He shoved Chris down onto his back on the mattress and fumbled with his belt and his fly, pushing his jeans down roughly and leaving Chris in only his tight cotton boxer-briefs, the fabric bulging obscenely over his swollen cock. 

Zach couldn’t help it. He may have plans for Chris but for right now he couldn’t resist what he could tell was a gorgeous cock straining against the black cotton of Chris’s underwear. He dropped to his knees on the side of the bed and gripped Chris’s waist with two hands, pulling his ass to the edge of the mattress and burying his face in his lap. Keeping the thin fabric barrier between them, Zach mouthed the head of Chris’s dick until the cotton was wet with saliva and precome. He used one hand to cup his balls, held tightly in place by the fabric, while the other pushed Chris’s thighs further apart. After a few more minutes of teasing, Zach let his fingers creep under the waistband of Chris’s shorts and slowly, tantalizingly pulled them down and off, eliciting a gasp from Chris as his swollen cock sprang free. Zach wrapped his fingers around it and pumped it once, twice, experimentally as he listened to Chris gasp again, a little strangled moan as if he were trying to stay silent but unable. With a devious grin, Zach licked a stripe up the entire length of his shaft, thrilled at the shuddering cry Chris made at the sensation. He wanted to take his beautiful cock into his mouth, taste the precome glistening from the head and suck it until he could taste Chris’s load on his tongue… but he had other plans for Chris and making him come now, so quickly, would ruin the fun.

An idea came to him and Zach reached to his side, to the nightstand next to the head of the bed, pulling open the drawer and retrieving something he’d almost forgot was there. Chris craned his neck up to see what was happening and when he glimpsed what Zach was holding, all the color drained from his face. “Zach, I don’t know…”

“You know what to say if you want me to stop.” Zach reminded him bluntly as he clicked open the blade of the pocket knife in his hand. It was only two, maybe three inches long, a black brushed-steel blade that popped out of a sturdy metal handle. It had been a gift he’d received ages ago, in what felt like another lifetime, from the last person who’d let him use it on him. But the key word there was _let_ , as he, like all the others, hadn’t really enjoyed but simply tolerated Zach’s predilections in a way that marked their relationship with an expiration date from the very beginning.

Chris didn’t utter another word, but when Zach ran the cold flat surface of the knife over the smooth skin of his inner thigh he whimpered quietly, a sound that Zach wasn’t quite ready to admit he enjoyed. Without hesitation and in one quick motion, Zach turned the blade to its side and let the razor-sharp edge slice a shallow cut across the skin of Chris’s upper thigh, inches from the base of his cock. Chris cried out at the sting of the cut, a short yelp that he stifled quickly and replaced with a breathless gasp when he felt the steel kiss his skin again, tracing a second crimson line in parallel to the first. 

Zach gazed in wonder as Chris’s blood rose quickly to the two slits in his flesh, each only an inch long at best, and so very shallow. But Zach kept his knives sharp, and sharp knives make clean cuts, so the blood had already begun to drip down Chris’s thigh in tiny, slow rivulets onto the bed. Zach was going to need to have this bedspread dry-cleaned or replaced after this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about something so insignificant when he had such a beautiful sight before him. He clicked the blade of the knife closed and tossed it to the side, gripping Chris’s bloody thigh with both hands to wrench his legs further apart and clamp his mouth onto the incisions. He could feel the clean lines where the skin separated with the tip of his tongue, and as he explored the tiny fissures he could feel a small but steady gush of blood pulsing from each one in time with the wild _thumpthump_ of Chris’s frantic heart. The blood pooled into Zach’s mouth, not nearly enough to raise concerns of blood loss but still much more than had come from the bite-wound before. He sucked until his mouth was filled with the hot, thick liquid and he swallowed it hungrily, repeating once, twice more. Too much would be unhealthy for them both and so he forced himself to stop, pulling away from Chris’s writhing body to let the small incisions clot and close in time. He would need to make sure Chris was attended to when this was all said and done, but for now, he had become aware that Chris was clenching the sheets and moaning his name and nothing in the world could keep him from finishing what he’d started.

Zach rose to his feet and scrambled to remove his own pants as Chris gazed up at him lustfully from the bed, chest heaving and face nearly as red as the swollen cock lying between his legs. “Fuck, Zach, your _face_ ,” Chris moaned, letting his voice trail off into an incoherent purr. Zach wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and felt how wet it was. Chris’s blood coated his face, practically dripping down his chin from his bloody mouth. From past experience Zach knew that his teeth were likely red with it as well, and when he grinned down at Chris deviously the other man only moaned again, closing his eyes and gripping handfuls of the bedspread.

“You taste so fucking good,” Zach whispered to Chris as he crawled on top of him on the bed, straddling him and grinding his hips so that Chris’s erection rubbed against his own throbbing cock. 

“Show me,” Chris purred, arching his back and keening up into Zach’s hips. Zach obliged, catching Chris’s open mouth in a rough, wet kiss. Chris’s tongue explored Zach’s mouth tentatively and he let it, knowing what he must taste like. The thought of Chris tasting his own blood in their kiss shot a lightening bolt down Zach’s spine and he felt every synapse in his brain spark with the electricity of every taste, every touch of Chris’s body. Not only was Chris letting Zach take what he wanted from him, use him to fulfill his darkest urges, he fucking _loved it_.

But Zach’s control was slipping. As Chris kissed him, ran his hands over Zach’s body and allowed Zach to do the same to him, the animal part of Zach’s subconscious was taking over. Zach stopped letting Chris lead and shoved his own tongue into the other man’s mouth, biting and sucking his lips, gripping his hair to pull his head back and hold it still. The rougher Zach was with him, the more Chris seemed to enjoy it, so Zach gave in to his animal urge and wrapped one hand around the other man’s throat, matching his fingers up to the pink marks still showing from before, and squeezed. He was careful not to grip too hard, but he maintained a firm pressure as he snaked his other hand between their keening bodies to fumble for their cocks. His hand brushed against the not-yet-closed cuts on Chris’s thigh and without thinking he rubbed his fingers over the incisions, coating his hand in Chris’s blood before he gripped both their cocks in the slicked-up hand and thrust his hips into the wet warmth.

Barely seconds had passed before Chris’s mouth gaped open in a voiceless, breathless cry and Zach felt his body shudder beneath him, felt his heart pound erratically through the arteries he clamped under the fingers he held tight around Chris’s throat. As soon as he felt Chris come, spilling onto his hand, Zach relaxed his grip on his neck but tightened the one on his cock. Chris coughed a few times as the air returned to his lungs, but with the first breath he drew he rasped out Zach’s name, and that was enough. Zach felt that ball of lightening explode inside him as he came on his hand and on their stomachs with a strangled cry before rolling off of Chris to collapse next to him on the bed.

They were both a mess of blood, sweat, and come, panting on the bedspread that was _definitely_ ruined now. Neither of them spoke for some time as the quiet tapping of raindrops continued to drum against the windows, the only other sound besides their slowly-calming breaths. Zach listened to Chris breathe next to him, felt the dip in the mattress on his right side from the weight of the other man, the evidence of his presence filling him with an emotion he barely recognized and never dreamed he’d allow himself to let his guard down enough to experience.

Without turning his head Zach inched his right hand across the bed until his fingers found Chris’s left one and he tentatively intertwined their fingers. His voice barely louder than the falling rain, Zach squeezed Chris’s hand and whispered “Thank you.”


End file.
